


Bones

by Pippins_Mushr00ms



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Chimeras, Dislocated bones, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Little bit of body horror, Monster of the Week, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:21:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23578327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pippins_Mushr00ms/pseuds/Pippins_Mushr00ms
Summary: Whumpee’s recently had a dislocated bone set. Their nightmares have them tossing and turning, however, and it isn’t long before the bone jerks back out and wakes them up with an awful pain to relive. - whumpster dumpster on tumblr
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, if you squint real hard - Relationship
Comments: 6
Kudos: 75





	Bones

Whumpster Dumpster

Whumpee’s recently had a dislocated bone set. Their nightmares have them tossing and turning, however, and it isn’t long before the bone jerks back out and wakes them up with an awful pain to relive. - whumpster dumpster on tumblr

"Drabble", hah. >.>;

Why is my Jaskier always angry?? XD

* * *

_'Some ballad **this** would turn out to be,'_ Jaskier thought with a moan.

Once again, the bard had gotten involved.

Not _super_ involved. Just enough involved to piss off a… what was it called? A chimera?

Really, all he did was throw a rock and it charged him, with its great lion head roaring.

He'd dodged, being nimble, but the bard hadn't been ready for the serpent's tail sweep that knocked him off his feet.

He hit the ground hard and was blinded by a white flash of pain. The monster's clawed foot pressed him into the ground, piercing his doublet. It stood over him screeching. When his vision came back, he dumbly noticed the sky was full of dark grey clouds that outlined the creature's fuzzy mane.

Until said lion head was suddenly spinning in the air. Black blood spattered over the bard's face. The rest of the twitching body was kicked away and the witcher dragged his dazed friend a few feet away. Jaskier puffed his thanks before the witcher went back to stand over the corpse until the death throes stopped.

Jaskier made no attempt to get up. His breath was coming in whistling gasps. He was suddenly aware of the gore on his lips, spit the bitter taste out, and wiped a sleeve of his ruined jacket across his face. He grimaced when it came away wet and dark. He sat up, gasping when fire radiated from his hip. He brought his knees up to stand, but--

"Uh, hey, yeah, hi, uhhhhm, Geralt?" Jaskier's voice was pitched high with false levity.

"What?" he growled, sheathing his sword.

"Um, don't mean to alarm you, haha, not that you're easily alarmed. You know… just that, uh--" his tone of nonchalance was tinged with panic, followed by a soft grunt.

Breathing hard and covered in monster guts, the witcher spun around to face his friend. Jaskier was sitting on the ground, one knee up, looking at him with wide eyes. His face was nearly as pale as Geralt's. That couldn't be good.

"Get to the point, bard," Geralt snapped, looking at the younger man's pinched expression. He was hurt somewhere.

"I, uh, I can't move my leg."

"You- what?"

Jaskier tried to get up again, but quickly gave up with a gasp. His stomach flip flopped nauseatingly. When he spoke again, the panic was evident. Geralt could smell it sharp on the air.

"M-my leg, Geralt. _Gods_ , I-- it won't-- Can't--"

The witcher was suddenly at his friend's side. It was so fast, the bard flinched. Geralt's black eyes roved over Jaskier's body, looking for injuries. Gently, the witcher's gloved hands ran up and down his legs. Which would have been nice, had it not been for the throbbing pain.

"Where are you hurt?" Geralt demanded, confused. Nothing seemed broken. "Specifically."

"Hip! Oh! Ohhh, gods, it's my fucking hip!"

As Jaskier answered, Geralt probed the area unknowingly. At his friend's cry, he quickly removed his hands.

"Straighten your other leg," the white-haired man ordered, putting an arm around Jaskier's back to steady him.

With difficulty, the bard did as he was asked. Geralt stared Jaskier's feet.

"Hmm," came a soft growl.

"What 'hmm'?" Jaskier was ready to scream, but he looked where his friend was looking.

His right leg seemed shorter than the left, turned in at the knee. That… couldn't be good.

"Can you feel this?"

Before Jaskier could object, his friend tapped his turned foot. Pain shot up his entire leg, beelining directly to the bard's already iffy stomach. He couldn't make a sound.

He wrenched around, away from Geralt and proceeded to vomit up his entire breakfast.

Bless him, Geralt was waiting with the water skin for him to rinse his mouth out.

"That'll be a yes?" asked Geralt, raising his eyebrows. At his miserable nod, he continued, "I don't think it's broken, but your hip is definitely out of place, Jaskier. Since you felt your foot, I don't think there's any nerve damage, but… it's got to be put back."

"Put back…" Jaskier felt faint.

His vision became cloudy and he thought he said something about taking a nap. He supposed he must have passed out because the next thing he knew, the bard was staring up at an extremely worried witcher tapping his face.

"M'awake, m'wake," he mumbled, pushing himself up. "Le's do this."

"Here, small sips. Poppy extract."

A little, uncorked glass vial was pushed to his lips. Jaskier grimaced at the familiar smell and sickly sweet taste. He waved it away, stomach lurching. He shook his head, trying to clear it.

"Jask--"

"Save it for later, 'll throw it up now."

"Jaskier, this is going to hurt," Geralt warned, stopping up the bottle up and stowing it away.

The bard just nodded and took a deep breath through his nose.

"Wouldn't say no to a few jugs of mulled wine," he joked, then became serious when the witcher stared, "Just-- what do you need me to do? How do we do this? Have you ever done this?"

Geralt looked at his friend until he became, if possible, even _more_ uncomfortable.

"Orrrr…. _I_ can do it…?"

Geralt shook his head.

"Lay back, I'll have to manipulate the bone back into place."

"Oh, good. Right. _Have_ you ever done this?" Jaskier lowered himself back to the ground with a grunt, keeping himself perched on an elbow.

The witcher's hands were on him immediately, unbuckling the bard's belt and smoothly removing it. The younger man winced anyway. He had the horrible feeling he'd have that belt between his teeth in a moment.

"Just my shoulder," Geralt grunted, handing him the leather strip. "I would b--"

"'Bite down on this'. Yeah, I figured," Jaskier sighed, taking it.

Geralt stared again. Jaskier folded the belt a couple times and thrust it between his lips. He wasn't adding broken teeth to his list of injuries as well. When it was secure, he nodded.

"Hand," Geralt instructed, holding his own out.

With no hesitation, the bard reached out. Geralt squeezed once before placing it on his hip.

"Feel that?" He asked, running Jaskier's hand over his ruined hip.

Jaskier nodded. There was a hard lump under his skin where it shouldn't be.

"Good, keep your hand pressed there. (The witcher moved it lower.) I'm going to pull down, you press down when I start to twist your leg out, then let go when I bring the leg over. I need you awake for this. Are you ready?"

The bard huffed a laugh around his mouthful of leather and shook his head no. He could swear he saw a hint of a smile playing at the corners of Geralt's lips as he placed a hand above and below Jaskier's knee. The bard nodded at him.

"All right. One… two…"

When Geralt said 'two', the blinding fire spread up and down the entire right side of the bard's body. He was very, _very_ thankful he'd worn a belt today. His head tipped back and he groaned.

Jaskier _knew_ the counting was bullshit too and was ready with an insult, but it came out as a sharp, wordless cry.

"Jaskier, hand!"

The bard fumbled, but pressed down on the spot Geralt showed him and gagged when he felt the bones shifting under his fingers.

"Almost done, almost done," Geralt mumbled.

He jumped into a crouch and pulled Jaskier's leg over the other one. The bard could have sworn he heard a whispered apology but had no time to call him out.

With another twist, and another flash of agony, the bones ground back into place. As soon as Jaskier heard the meaty pop, the burning fire turned to a (still awful, but manageable) throbbing ache. He knew it was over. A sickening relief flooded through his body like ice and he shuddered violently.

Jaskier ripped the belt from his mouth, rolled and dry heaved into the grass again, but there was nothing left to come up. He collapsed with his face in his arms and lay there coughing until he became dimly aware of a hand rubbing circles on his back. He thought Geralt might have been speaking, but he was lost in his own monologue.

"Oh, gods, that was awful. What the fuck happened to 'three'? Fucking terrible. Worst thing ever. By the gods. That was worse than the djinn," Jaskier was mortified that his rambling came out as sobs.

"You're okay, you're okay! You did really well, Jaskier. How does it feel now?"

"Better!" he was still sobbing, but true, the fire had dulled to an ache.

"I know I'm asking a lot, but I need you to try and move this leg again," Geralt was saying, scenting the panic.

The bard stayed on his side, but flexed his foot in a half-hearted wiggle. The heady relief almost cancelled out the pain when he felt his toes twitching in his boot again.

"Good. Your knee?"

He bent his knee gingerly, groaning into his elbow.

"Excellent, it worked," Jaskier could swear Geralt sounded as relieved as the bard was.

The younger man rolled back on both arms to glare at him with watering eyes.

"What do you mean _'it worked'_?" He demanded, voice shrill.

Geralt at least had the decency to look abashed. He shrugged, though and that sort of infuriated the bard.

"Shoulder joints are almost the same as hip joints?" He supplied, sheepishly.

Jaskier groaned, flopped back, eyes closed. Geralt mistook this and panicked.

"Jaskier!"

A stream of cold water hit the bard in the face and he swore loudly. He shot up and lunged for his friend. He threw the belt and hit him in the shoulder with a thwack. He let out another cry. It hurt to sit up.

"What the _hell_ , Geralt?!" Jaskier spluttered, snatching the waterskin with a quickness that surprised the witcher. He wasn't ready when he squeezed the skin and sprayed him back.

"I thought you passed out!" Geralt defended himself, snatching it back to stop the onslaught.

"Well, I didn't!" said the bard, grumpy now.

Jaskier tried to struggle to his feet, indignant and dripping. He yelped when his hip vehemently protested.

There were powerful arms under his shoulders, hefting him easily. He bent double, wheezing. The bard would have fallen over if not for Geralt.

"Are you… _sure_ my leg is fixed?" he gagged on the pain again. He didn't resist when Geralt slung his arm around his neck and pulled him close. He noted the hole in his friend's jacket.

"Well, since you're standing on your own, I'd say yes. It'll be… sore for a while," Geralt said, flipping the collar down to check for a wound. He didn't see any blood. "Try to keep your weight off it. We'll get you to the healer to check and make sure."

He whistled for Roach. She should be nearby. Jaskier wasn't walking anywhere. Honestly, Geralt didn't even want him on his feet, but the bard was being stubborn. He debated offering the poppy extract again.

Judging by the way Jaskier supported his own weight, there probably wasn't going to be much for a healer to do. The bone was already set back and the only real thing to do now was wait. To let tendons and muscles shift back and tighten themselves up, but he wasn't telling Jaskier that.

Soon enough, Roach came cantering through the trees, nickering softly.

"Good girl, Roach," Geralt murmured, when she nosed him in the face. He patted her neck with his free hand. She almost knocked them over in her haste. "All right, all right."

Beside him, Jaskier chuckled, reaching out for the mare.

"Hello, girlie," the bard whisper, strained.

"Come on, Roach, down," Geralt tugged the reins twice in a way the horse recognized.

She seemed to nod and lowered herself gracefully to the ground. Jaskier was impressed.

"Oh, good _girl_ , Roachie. 'm gonna get you _all_ the treats," the singer crooned at her, scratching between her ears. She huffed.

"Come on, bard."

Geralt maneuvered his friend next to the saddle and stopped. Any way he tried to get Jaskier on her back would aggravate his wound. He turned to the younger man.

"Jaskier…" he started. "Let's take this slow."

The bard pushed his sweaty hair out of his face and nodded. He knew this bit would be difficult.

"Just… let's get it done," he sounded determined, resigned.

He knew he was going to regret it, but as quick as he could, before her head was high, or Geralt could stop him, Jaskier swung his injured leg over the saddle and saw stars. He clutched at the saddle horn with one hand.

Carefully, Geralt held his friend on Roach's back, trying to keep him up.

"Up, girl. Jaskier, hold on," the witcher's voice was tight.

The bard grit his teeth as Roach got smoothly back to her feet.

"Oh, best girl," the young man panted. "Best horsie ever, yes you are."

"Don't talk to her like that."

The saddle shifted as Geralt swung himself up behind the bard.

"But she's a good girl and deserves it," Jaskier protested, leaning forward to pat her neck. Lightning bolted through his leg again.

His vision suddenly tunneled and he could feel himself falling. The bard tried to twist a hand into Roach's mane to keep himself straight. Oh, that was gonna hurt when he hit the ground.

"Jaskier. Fuck! Jaskier!" Geralt was shaking him gently.

He was not on the ground.

"'M here," he groaned.

"You blacked out," Geralt stated, settling him back against his chest.

"I assure you, I'm still here," hissed Jaskier, untangling his hand from Roach. His face was covered in a cold sweat. "Oh, gods above, still conscious, I swear. Wish I wasn't, but--"

Jaskier shrugged. A bead of perspiration dropped off the end of his nose.

"I will take a little of that poppy extract, if the offer is still on the table," he admitted, wiping his grimy sleeve across his face.

The bottle of white liquid was in front of his eyes almost before he finished his sentence and he took a swig of the sickly sweetness.

"Much appreciated, my dear witcher," Jaskier groaned, adjusting his position. It was going to be a long ride back to town.

"Hmm," came the short response.

Jaskier, of course, even in his beginning haze, realized this 'hmm' meant 'you're an idiot, stop moving.'

He clucked his tongue and nudged Roach forward.

* * *

A couple of slow miles later, Jaskier had two doses of the poppy extract. The hard saddle and constant swaying of Roach needled at his hip until finally, Geralt smelled a familiar salty scent of tears and had enough. He couldn't believe he had to coax the bard into taking it.

Now he was pleasantly loopy by the time they got back into the glow of the little town. One more would have knocked him out. As it were, the singer was half conscious, mostly silent, except the occasional hum of random melody or groan.

The bard shifted again, wincing at his leg, but the poppies had done their work and the pain was more an ache for now. It was enough that Jaskier stopped panicking so hard, at least.

The sky had long gone dark and Geralt was lost in his thoughts. He thought he could smell blood on friend.

Jaskier's head lolled back against Geralt's shoulder, eyes closed. The bard couldn't seem to stop wiggling his toes to make sure the limb was still functional, no matter how many times Geralt admonished him. It was like tonguing a cut in his mouth. Had to make sure it was still there and still hurt.

"Stop it," he growled to the bard, when he felt the boot knock into his shin again.

* * *

It was almost an hour later when Geralt laid the bard in the room they'd just rented. The innkeeper came down in her woven, purple bedrobe and a messily braided plait. She stopped mid yawn when she saw the nearly unconscious singer draped across Geralt's shoulder.

With a lantern in hand, she led them up the stairs and to a vacant room room.

The woman put the key down on the table in the center of the room.

"Will you be wanting a bath?" she asked.

It was late, and Geralt didn't want to put her through the trouble.

"No, thank you, but I will have some water if there's some available."

"Of course," she dipped out, after lighting one of the candles, clearly still a bit unnerved by the pair's sudden appearance.

"All right, Jaskier, up you get."

"It's okay, Geralt, jus lemme sleep a while," he sighed.

With his eyes closed, he pushed the last few buttons of his doublet open with one hand and flipped the coat open. His foot wiggled _again_ and the witcher repressed an urge to smack him.

He settled with carefully removing the bard's boots and tossing them on the floor.

"Come on, you're all sweaty. You want to get washed --," Geralt tried to coerce him but his eyes fell on a red bloom peeking out from under the thick blue fabric. He growled, "Jaskier…"

The witcher tugged the doublet down his friend's shoulder, none too gently. Jaskier hissed softly, eyes snapping open.

"Ow, what?" he mumbled, looking down. "Oh."

Geralt rubbed his face tiredly. Clearly, Jaskier hadn't felt it so it couldn't be too bad, but the wound would need tending.

"Come on, sit up," he instructed, then added, "Carefully. Clean up, then sleep. We'll get you a healer in the morning."

With a groan, Jaskier did as he was asked. The poppies were beginning to wear off, leaving his body throbbing.

While Geralt was working the bloody shirt over the bard's head, the innkeeper snuck in and out, setting a bowl, pitcher and a small pile of folded cloths on the table. She was so quiet.

It was really just a scratch, but in no time, it was clean, bandaged and the human was laying down again, panting.

"Thank you," he murmured.

"You're welcome. Go to sleep, Jaskier," Geralt said gruffly.

* * *

The witcher had dozed off sitting at the table after rinsing his face with what was left of the clean water. He'd watched the bard sleeping fitfully for an hour or so before nodding off himself. It was silent, then there was screaming.

The sudden commotion was enough to startle Geralt so badly, he slipped off his chair.

"Its come out again! It's come out!" the bard was howling.

"Wha-?"

The screams turned to quiet sobs before Geralt managed to get himself off the floor. There was a wretched pop, another soft, muffled cry and a shudder.

By the time Geralt stood over the bed, Jaskier was curled on his side, knuckles stuffed into his mouth to quiet himself. His foot wiggled and he flexed his knee near constantly.

"…Jaskier?"

"I'm fine," he managed to get out. He gagged on his next words. "I got it. It went back in."

"Are you sure?" Geralt knew he was in pain, but that was a tough move the bard had just performed on himself and he couldn't stop a small, impressed smile. "It sounds like you're going to vomit again."

"Heh, I may yet," Jaskier groaned, not moving except for his toes. "That was disgusting. Don't make fun of me."

Sitting on the bed, Geralt put his hands up in a sign of surrender.

"I'm not making fun. Dislocated bones aren't easy," the witcher said, remembering when his own shoulder had been momentarily ruined. The first night healing, he'd woken and had to put it back. He gently put a hand on his friend's ankle, stilling the restless movement. "But you have to give it time for the muscles to tighten back up."

"That's disgusting, too," panted Jaskier, rolling to his back. He used his shirtsleeve to wipe his face. His eyes were already starting to glaze over again.

"First thing in the morning, I'll go get the healer, I promise," Geralt said.

"I'm holding you to it," Jaskier mumbled, slipping away again.

* * *

_**Notes**_ : that's it, that's the end. I'm tired of this story and just want to get it posted hahaha. This started as a drabble prompt and more than 3000 words later, it's still going, but at least now it has what the prompt stated lol


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